


Mollis Fortuna Iuvat

by Rouletheworld



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Chinese Food, Cute, Don’t copy to another site, Drabble, Fluff, Fortune Cookies, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Podfic Welcome, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Sad Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 00:11:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20497673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rouletheworld/pseuds/Rouletheworld
Summary: Sunday dinner out after being cooped up leads to uncomfortable silences, half made declarations and sad Angels.





	Mollis Fortuna Iuvat

Another lazy Sunday afternoon finds Aziraphale and Crowley at the Ritz, where French-Asian fusion was the cuisine du jour, courtesy of a guest chef from the Ritz-Carlton in Kuala Lumpur. Being such a unique event, it was -of course- sold out within minutes, which was hardly a problem when one could just miracle their way into a reservation. Crowley secured one for four o'clock, which left them plenty of daylight for a stroll around St. James’s afterwards to feed/torment the ducks.

They’d supped on far too many soggy takeaways lately while trying to keep a low profile -either at the bookshop or Crowley’s flat- so Aziraphale enjoyed the outing all the more. They were on the verge of romantic and it was all he could hope for, as Crowley hadn’t yet said the three words hovering between their hearts. Aziraphale wouldn’t push, of course. He’d remain the steadfast rock on which Crowley could depend on, and if sometimes his beloved was feeling especially vulnerable, bask upon. Being soft had advantages. 

Aziraphale rubbed his hands together, hardly knowing where to start when the main course arrived. It all looked so perfect after those wretched paper boxed meals. Crisped duck meat, glistening with fat, sat nestled inside delicate French crepes with spring onions and plum sauce, accompanied by a bottle of Von Hovel Riesling Kabinett. “My dear, this is simply marvelous.”

Crowley nodded in agreement, his eyes fixed on Aziraphale, anticipating the Angel’s joy in the first bite. “Go on, then. You’ve waited long enough, Angel.”

The crepe was warm in Aziraphale’s hands, duck scented steam wafted up from the delicate meat and his mouth watered. He closed his eyes and took a bite, chewing slowly to catch every subtle shift in flavour as pungent onion blended with sweet plum and fatted duck. A soft moan escaped his lips as he goes for the next bite and Crowley was enthralled to the point where he forgot he had his own meal to savor. 

~-~

Two bottles into the Riesling and their meal had come to an end, much to Aziraphale’s dismay. It was so good and the crepes were so small...  
The waiter brings the bill and several freshly made fortune cookies. The bill was miracled away as per usual and Aziraphale grinned at the cookies like an eager child. 

“Ooh, fortune cookies! Crowley you really must try one. Get the full experience, as it were.”

Crowley glances at the cookie, then back to Aziraphale. “I’ll pass. Only predictions I trust are Nutter’s, even if they were cryptic.”

“Oh. Yes, well it’s just for fun. No one ever believes them." Aziraphale does his best to keep the pout off his face. He knows Crowley is ten times more likely to indulge him if he looks the least bit vexed. That sort of manipulation was an unfair weapon, one he was working on removing from his arsenal. 

Apparently though, it’s too late. Crowley has him sussed out with just a glance. “Oh, for Hell's sake, hand one over.”

“You don’t have to humor me, Crowley. I just thought it would be fun. We could get a chuckle out of them.”

Crowley reaches across the table, his long fingers plucking one of the cookies from the tray. “I don’t mind humoring you, Angel. It’s the fortunes themselves I find offensive. Free will and all that. Some people will actually fall for anything in written form if you make it sound esoteric enough.”

“One could say that about the Bible, too," Aziraphale huffs. “But as I’ve said, this is just for fun between you and me.”

The Demon rolls his eyes and cracks the cookie open pulling out a slip of paper. “Your lucky numbers are 18,4,23,38,17 and 58. I feel luckier already.” Deft fingers flip the paper over. Crowley reads it, then drops it to the table with a smirk. “ Apparently the fortune I seek is inside another cookie…”  
~-~

The stroll through St James’s was uneventful, merely an excuse to spend a little time together before Crowley took off to his own flat for the night. Aziraphale wished it weren’t that way and that they could cohabitate like normal couples tended to do. But they weren’t a couple, at least officially. Crowley hadn’t bridged the gap from friend to lover? Companion? Partner? Sure, the feelings were in place, it just lacked a verbal confirmation of what they both knew to be true. 

It hung in the air between them, much like a lead balloon. 

~-~

The Bentley pulled up along the curb outside the bookshop and Aziraphale inched closer, buzzing Crowley’s cheek with an affectionate kiss. “Do you want to come in? I have a port that you might find interesting.”

Crowley shook his head. It was too much, the affection thrumming through the car. It reeked of Angel and love and sweet wine. He needed to get away, needed to plan how to tell the Angel what was in his heart. They both knew what it was, but to speak it- to claim the feeling, was difficult at best.  
“I’ll pass. I have a few things to finish up. Breakfast tomorrow?”

Aziraphale nodded and gave him a little smile, though no mirth shone in his blue eyes. “Of course. I’ll leave you to it, dear. Have a good night, I lo-”

“Don't. Please. Not tonight, Aziraphale,” Crowley interrupts softly. It hurt to say but he wasn't ready. Not yet. He hoped it wouldn’t ruin what they had. 

Again Aziraphalel nods, this time his face unreadable as he reaches for the door handle. He steps out to the curb, heading to his shop without a second glance at his love. His hand is on the doorknob when he hears Crowley call out for him. 

“Oi! Angel! You forgot your fortune cookie.” 

Aziraphale pauses then slowly returns to the car, leaning into the open window with his hand outstretched for the treat. 

Crowley drops the cookie into the Angel’s waiting palm. His gaze settled on Aziraphale’s blue eyes and his mouth became a desert. He wanted to say something... anything to bring back Aziraphale’s smile.  
The Angel swallows, forcing the lump that had formed in his throat back down. _Say it, Crowley. Say anything. Don't make me suffer._

The silence stretches, though only a few seconds have passed by outside the vehicle.

Surprisingly, Aziraphale moves first, breaking the tension as he pulls himself from the car. Nothing was going to happen. It wasn’t meant to be, at least tonight.  
“Thank you, Crowley. Goodnight.”

This time it’s the Demon who struggles to keep his emotions at bay, his face blank as he manages a quiet “G’night, Angel.”

Crowley’s golden eyes follow Aziraphale to the door, then he pops the Bentley into gear and peals out, disappearing around the corner before he second guesses himself and his decision. He really should have actually said something to Aziraphale but he just couldn’t form the words. 

The Angel enters his shop, stopping to look at the little cookie in his hand. He did believe in free will, along with The Ineffable Plan, hoping that Crowley would take advantage of it and admit his own feelings but perhaps it just wasn’t the right time. At least that was the little lie he'd decided to tell himself in order to keep himself going. 

Sighing, he heads to the kitchen and makes himself a cuppa, then he settles into his armchair to read his newest acquisition. An hour in the urge for something sweet strikes him and he remembers the cookie he’d hidden in his pocket.  
Aziraphale pulls it from his coat, gently unwrapping it, the crinkle of cellophane loud in his ears. Despite Crowley’s earlier teasing, he pulls the slip from the cookie, unfurling it before reading the fortune.

“Oh. Oh, Crowley…”

There, emblazoned in red upon the stark white slip were four little words. Very nearly the same words he’d tried to speak earlier, the words he needed to hear out loud, but now he found this was just as good.

_I love you, Angel._

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to my readers, doubly so for those who cheer me on with kudos and comments. The more love I feel, the better my stories get, so... Ya know.... Help me out?  
I'll also entertain fic requests if you want something special. 
> 
> Again, thank you. I love everyone in this Fandom.
> 
> Additional note: if anyone wants to translate or do fanart, I am 3000% okay with that. Just drop me a comment so I can promote you!


End file.
